


And Sit Beside Your Feet Tonight

by literally_no_idea



Category: Marvel, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: King/Concubine, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:07:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22000675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literally_no_idea/pseuds/literally_no_idea
Summary: “Idiots,” Frank mutters before he can stop himself, and it must have been louder than he intended because the entire room comes to a screeching halt.“What was that?” The constable asks, and Frank rolls his eyes.“You’re all idiots. You’re going to get people killed. Putting an entire group in a valley? They’re going to get cut off from reinforcements. You’re sending them into a death trap. And putting a force on the river will cut off shipments from the kingdoms we aren’t at war with.”-Based onthis tumblr postwith Bill as a king with Frank as his concubine and secret advisor.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Billy Russo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	And Sit Beside Your Feet Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Flogging Molly's "If I Ever Leave This World Alive". It's three am, so A) no editing we die like men and B) help
> 
> This story also inspired by [this post](https://typinggently.tumblr.com/post/189910916775/i-love-this-so-much-the-imagery-of-frank) because I started adding onto that post and now we're here. I can't do anything by halves.
> 
> Anyway enjoy!

Bill had been chosen to take over as king by the people when the former king was overthrown and beheaded. He had a good reputation among the people as one of the younger, better spoken members of the royal court, and he’d been the immediate choice. However, it meant he had to play a delicate balancing act; keep the people happy, but don’t upset the royal court and the military leaders, who already hate him for replacing the former king.

What he wanted more than anything was to have Frank at his side. Bill can maintain appearances, handle the delicate game of politics, but no one is able to bluntly point out minor details in actual policies and plans that could be a problem like Frank can. Frank has one of the best strategic and detail oriented minds Bill has ever seen, but he’d never risen through the military ranks, let alone social ranks; he’s loud, opinionated, and he refuses to back down when he knows he’s right, social classes and military superiors be damned.

Bill can’t just appoint Frank to the royal court, or make him a military general; it would be a clear show of favoritism and an offense against the higher officials, and as far as the people would be concerned, they’d think he was more interested in personal gain than fair rule. Bill frets over it, convinced that he’ll have to just manage alone, but it only takes a few days into his reign as king for Bill to come up with the idea, and he brings it to Frank.

“No.” Frank stares at him, his expression entirely too blank and neutral, and Bill huffs.

“You’ve always wanted to be able to tell people they’re full of shit. This is your chance. All you have to do is wear a little less and sit on the floor instead of a chair. I already know you do that most of the time at home anyway, you’re like a big, stupid yet strangely intelligent dog. Just say yes, Frank.”

“No.”

Frank might be opinionated and determined, but Bill is far more stubborn. “Just fucking do it, Frankie. You can make actual change. You can get those perfect strategies of yours actually put to use, you can help me show up all those stupid assholes on the court, and you don’t even have to do any hard work.”

“No.”

Bill sighs. “The royal cooks make some of the best pork I’ve ever had in my life. And there’s enough wine for you to never even have to be sober for any of this if you don’t want to be.”

“No.”

“There’s royal wolves. Yes, actual wolves. Mostly tamed. But all they know how to do is sit, lay down, stand still, and go outside. You could, I don’t know, give them belly rubs when no one’s around. And I bet you could teach them tricks. You could even help raise any pups they have.”

“... Fine. But I want to name the pups too.”

“Noted. Now get in the goddamn carriage.”

Bill announces Frank as his concubine, and when rumors start about his choice (“Why didn’t he pick a prettier one?”) Bill covers it with a “I prefer functional over pretty.” The statement is not only a backhanded dig at the royal court, but also a good tag line for his rule as king; by the end of the week, the public has adopted “functional, not (just) pretty” as a motto. The royal court has to pretend to appreciate the phrase, and Bill can barely contain a smirk every time he passes a vendor selling something with the phrase on it.

* * *

In a way, Frank is actually pissed that their agreement turns out to be so necessary. In the first few months alone, Frank has to secretly give Bill his opinions on everything from royal decrees to public events to infrastructure issues, mostly nitpicking notes on little loopholes members of the court were trying to slip into the wording to advance their own agendas.

He isn’t allowed to actually speak in meetings; instead, much to his own embarrassment and disgust, he has to move from where he’s sitting or kneeling on a pillow at Bill’s side to rest his head in Bill’s lap and whine like a needy dog, the cue they’d agreed on (very begrudgingly, on Frank’s part) as a way for Bill to be able to pull Frank aside and get his opinion under the ruse of Bill “taking care of his boy’s needs.”

He gives up on their cue at one meeting that includes both the royal court and the highest ranking generals, a strategy meeting for where to send their troops; the neighboring kingdoms have heard about the new king now, and at least three kingdoms are trying their luck with an invasion.

The map covering the table is littered with flag pins and little figurines marking where troops and strongholds are meant to be, where supplies are going to be delivered. Frank is on a silk pillow at Bill’s side, up as high as he’s able to be while staying on his knees so he can look at the map. He shakes his head when one of the generals moves one of the flag markers to the bottom of a valley.

“Idiots,” Frank mutters before he can stop himself, and it must have been louder than he intended because the entire room comes to a screeching halt.

“What was that?” The constable asks, and Frank rolls his eyes.

“You’re all idiots. You’re going to get people killed. Putting an entire group in a valley? They’re going to get cut off from reinforcements. You’re sending them into a death trap. And putting a force on the river will cut off shipments from the kingdoms we aren’t at war with.”

One of the generals snorts. “Know much about things being cut, do we?” He asks, pointedly looking down past Frank’s waist, and Frank already has one hand on the table, ready to get to his feet and show the general just what he knows when Bill grabs him by the shoulder, holding him back. He lets out a low growl instead, and Bill’s grip on his shoulder tightens slightly in warning.

“Show me what your plan would be, then,” Bill says, letting go of Frank’s shoulder, and Frank stands, moves around the figurines and flags on the table in a matter of moments, then pauses, nodding once in approval of his own work.

“This is where you need to put your strongholds. Optimal positions for reinforcements and supplies, and good vantage points. Forces along here, flanking but not blocking where supplies from other kingdoms will flow in and out, to prevent the economy from crashing.” Frank explains the entire board, pointing things out as he speaks, and when he’s done, he stares down each of the people at the table in turn, silently daring them to oppose him. A third of the generals and all but two of the royal court shiver when he glares at them. There’s a moment of silence, and then one of the generals, the most recently promoted, clears his throat, all eyes turning to him.

“He’s right. It’s strategically sound. It’s the best course of action that’s been proposed today,” he says, and there’s a pause before the rest of the generals mumble their begrudging agreement.

Bill manages to wipe the grin from his face before everyone’s attention returns to him, and he nods, expression impassive. “Very well. That’s settled then. Gentlemen, get your forces ready, we’ll start preparations as soon as possible. And if you’ll all excuse me, I have to address my boy’s insolence.”

Frank doesn’t have time to protest before Bill’s standing and gripping him by the neck, steering him out of the room and down the hall a little ways. He shoves Frank hard, and Frank grunts when his head hits the wall.

“Fuck, Bill, what the hell was that for-” Frank’s cut off by Bill kissing him hard enough to bruise, and he moans, tips his chin up to kiss Bill better, and he barely represses a whine when Bill pulls away, panting and grinning from ear to ear.

“Jesus, Frankie, you are fuckin’ perfect, you know that? God, I knew you would be good at this, I just knew it.”

Frank grins back despite himself. “So, what, we just wait to go back in then?”

Bill shakes his head. “Oh no. You did speak out of turn, so I gotta make it look like I actually dealt with you.”

Frank frowns. “What do you mean?”

His answer comes in the form of Bill biting his shoulder, hard, and he gasps, hands coming up to grab at Bill’s waist. Bill grabs his wrists, pins them to the wall above Frank’s head. “Keep your hands off me,” he orders, and Frank grits his teeth but keeps his hands in place when Bill lets go.

Bill wraps one hand around Frank’s throat, gripping just tight enough that Frank’s sure there will be bruises but not so tight that Frank can’t breathe, and scratches down Frank’s chest and sides with the other hand, biting bruises all along Frank’s shoulders, collarbones, and neck the entire time. Frank whimpers and whines, using the wall behind him to keep him from collapsing as his knees start to go a little weak.

By the time Bill finally pulls away, Frank doesn’t even have to look down to know that his skin is covered in bruises and scratches, and he groans, thumps his head back against the wall behind him.

“Fuck you,” he grumbles, and Bill just grins, the smug bastard.

“Later. We have a meeting to get back to. Come.” Bill leads Frank back into the room with a hand gripping the back of his neck again, and Frank huffs as Bill shoves him to his knees on that damn silk pillow.

Frank can feel the entire room’s gaze on him, can feel it shift as Bill settles into his chair again with a sigh.

“Now, gentlemen, where were we?”

Frank glares at the floor for the rest of the meeting, tries to ignore Bill’s hand that grips his hair tight and tugs occasionally, the way that he frequently has to shift on his knees and repress a whimper. Bill taking him back to his room after the meeting and getting to settle on the bed is almost as good as having been given an actual seat at the table. Almost.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here](https://frank-g-castle.tumblr.com/) is one of my (our) tumblr blogs, please come say hi and ask for more brank content because I love ruining ~~making~~ Frank's day >:)


End file.
